Jigesuka
by xxchemi
Summary: Diff Generation. Sora Aero was a semi-hikikomori orphan who lived by herself in an apartment, watching the news about crimes and hate. A little girl comes up to her and gives a her a Death Note. What will it take her until she becomes god?


Hee.

THAT'S RIGHT! I don't own Death Note, or take any credit to the idea besides this Fiction. Enjoy

--

She lived for herself and no one. She killed for leisure, thirst, and hunger. She loves herself. Anyone who got in the way of that would end up on the floor bleeding red. No one got in the way of her and her with her.

--

Chapter 1-Unborn to Reborn

Sora Aero walked to her normal class. She was invisible among the crowds, a mere molecule in a cloud. She was what people would say a walking disaster, contradiction, showered with the flavor of sarcasm. She believes she lived a horrible life. The worst you can probably think of. The world is polluted with hanous crimes. If only there was a way to stop it.

"Beyond Birthday strikes again!" the T.V. Newscaster, Nao Rando burst out.

"What was that, Nao?" asked the female newscaster, Shir Yoru.

"Although the Wara Ningyo cases are solved, and Misora Naomi, may she rest in peace, is appraised for that, a new bad boy in town has arrived. Killing sprees with absolute care that it almost seems like an obsessive compulsive. The police, detectives, and forensics have investigated, yet no clues have been found, no theories have been made, and no leads."

"Ooh, that's very chilling to hear. Tips are to stay inside the house as much as you can. Lock the doors, close the windows, pull down the curtains. If going out, maybe go with a party. Isn't that right, Nao?"

"Nope. Not even that can save you from what we nickname Beyond Birthday!"

Ever since the Wara Ningyo, or Cursed Doll cases leaked out onto the public, people have been making a fuss about it could happen anytime now that this Beyond Birthday has encouraged some people seeking for revenge, lust, his thirst.

"Well, then, some bodyguards!"

Sora turned off the tv and sighed. How was she going to pay for the rent? She was only sixteen years old who lives in an apartment by herself. Her parents didn't kick her out, no, her parents died of an epidemic desease no one could identify, or even name.

She would cry herself to sleep, even if she does sleep. She suffered insomnia, or the inability to sleep. She didn't have enough money to buy medication. So she would spend all the money she had on rent. 

Her body would have been beautiful, but she was malnutritioned, making her look as if she were anorexic. As if her bones would pop right out of her skin, fighting its way through the tissues of her outer organ.

A job? Ah, yes, she has a job. She works at a fast-food restaurant, McDonalds, for minimum wage. Five dollars an hour couldn't keep her living. She didn't even have employee discounts. So she took another job, as a computer cleaner at Best Buy.

These jobs required social skills, and social skills she did not have. So, she was often yelled at, or had money taken away from her paycheck multiple times, sometimes not even paying her, but leaving her a debt.

Her apartment? It's empty. As if it were a hole to a church, her walls were plastered with different rosaries passed on to her by her deseased mother. She only had a television as a form of entertainment. She had one bathroom, one room, one kitchen, one living room and one door that lead to the outside world. She was a semi-hikikomori, a person who would rather stay indoors rather than outdoors. But being computerless, she hadn't a job that could give her money in the comfort, or something familiar to it, of her so-called "home."

Home? Such a word was invented. Such a useless word. Home is the misused word for where you're supposed to feel safe, where you have no discomfort of showering, sleeping, being alone in. All people have homes, but they move out of it to find bigger, better homes. Ones with security alarms and air conditioning.

Nobody understood the word home.

_They're treating these murders as if it were a movie. Why aren't they frightened? Ah, yes. They are celebrities. Everyone _loves _them. Who would want to hurt them?_

Alone, alone in this world. That was who she was.

Until…

_Knock, knock_. The vibration of the sound rang throughout the apartment. Sora instantly heard and opened the door. There was a little girl there.

Her hair was a strawberry blonde with little bowties. She was dressed in a blue floral dress with a big yellow rose behind her back. Her blue, shining eyes staring at Sora's bewildered brown eyes. In her arms, she held a basket with a black notebook and tongs. Her age? She looked as if she were six and her mom dressed her. She bowed. Sora looked around to see if anyone else was there with the little girl. Yet, no one was. Sora opened the door wider to let the girl in. She walked in and sat in the middle of the floor.

"Aero-chan."

Sora looked up.

"Um, yes?"

"You are miserable, I can tell."

"Er, little girl, who are you?"

She smiled widely, her eyes narrowed, and tilted her head. "Why, do you not know me?"

"…"

"I am Teresa Florae."

Sora was quite shocked to hear a little girl talk like this to her. She was observant. Might she be a genius? A prodigy at words?

"I have come to bring you your Death—"

"W-what?"

"Note."

"My Death Note? But, that doesn't make sense, little girl."

"My name is Teresa Florae."

"Teresa. "

Sora glanced at the basket. Teresa took the tongs and lifted the black book up with it and handed it to Sora.

"I forfeit ownership. Here, take-- ."

Sora took the book, scared, because the girl held it with the tongs, but nothing happened. She put the book on her table and turned back around, to see nothing but black. Sora was unconcious of it and walked right through it. She turned to the girl.

"Where's your mother?"

"M-my mother? I-I don't recall! Will you take me to her?"

Sora looked at this girl as if she were crazy.

"What's the book for?"

"Book? What book?"

Sora took the book and gave it to her. Teresa yelped then gave it back.

"R-right, the Death Note." She coughed. "Whoever human's name you write in it shall die within fourty seconds. Within those forty seconds, if you don't write a cause of death, they will simply die of a heart attack. You can not reverse the death. You may do the eye trade with the shinigami in able to see the person's face you see's lifespan and name in trade for half your lifespan. Your shinigami is still in the shinigami realm. You may lend this book, but keep ownership. Your shinigami will not tell you any vital information, or it is up to them. You can not kill a shinigami with the Death Note. If you have made the eye trade, you won't be able to see the lifespan of other Death Note holders. You may rip a page off."

"Er.. Alright…"

Teresa stood up and walked out of the door, but before her departure, she whispered. "I will be watching over you, Miss Sora Aero." She slammed the door close and everything was silent. Sora threw the book on her kitchen counter and dressed up for work, a little fast, shaken with the girl.


End file.
